When you must
be polite,
or mind your manners,
or some such societal
nonsense,
that you can’t entirely
break free of because your mama
would suffer a stroke,

here’s what I do,
I string the curses
and the razor blade
sharp words and the invective
and the absolute, devastating
shade
into a scroll that plays
through my skull,
where I can enjoy
it privately while paying
attention to the scene
unfolding in front of me.